A Life for a Life
by Mainecoon
Summary: Sequel to "Honor Among Us"
1. The Dream

  
Chapter 1 - The Dream   
  
They were always with him though they were never there. Every day, Auburn felt the absence of their hands in his. The silence that remained where their voices should have been drummed in his ears. Those spaces could be filled with a dagger and a mug of beer somewhere within the low hum of voices and pounding piano in the Rat Trap Saloon. Solace waited there in the form of a game of Rummy played in the company of friends who dealt a curse with every card.  
  
Then at night when the stars shined their cold, accusing eyes at him, he could escape into a world of daring thievery. Bravely he led wild chases through the foggy streets of London. Loot of all kinds, from glittering jewels to fine lace to hard cash, passed from his hands to sailors who waited eagerly on the docks for their share of the action.  
  
But in sleep he could not fight them. Every moment he slept was a moment full of them. He would dream of boarding a ship and sailing south to France or Italy: somewhere - **anywhere* - where they could live in peace. Or he would dream of being married to Argentina (how beautiful she was!) and watching her raise Ginger (how young she was!) as am proper lady.  
  
But every dream would end the same way. A dark shape would appear and face them with an ugly snarl. Ratigan! His yellow teeth were razors, his red eyes were flames, his fur was coarse and stuck out like porcupine quills. He tore through whatever bittersweet "might-have-been" comforted Auburn's repose. In the dream, Ginger was always killed. Then his mind turned to memory. Auburn and Tine were dragged from their home by two muscular thugs. The captives were brought to the throne room and forced to their knees before Ratigan. He descended from his throne slowly, as if savoring the helplessness of his prisoners. Once on the floor, he stooped and took hold of Tina's chin, forcing her to look at him.  
  
"Come with me, my sweet," Ratigan cooed gently. "Leave this poor thief and his half-breed child. I can give you anything your lovely heart desires."  
  
"Never!" Tina replied, her voice full of scorn.  
  
Ratigan pretended to look hurt. "But don't you want to live a better life? I know you do. I can give you your dreams! Just imagine: no more waiting tables as drunken, leering sailors whistle at you and grab your tail. No more washing dishes until the dawn breaks. No more living with this foul fool who can hardly provide for himself, much less for you. No more of that, Tina. Your wildest desires can be yours if you join me. I can see in your eyes that you want it. Almost as much...." here his voice dropped to a forceful whisper, "....as I want you."  
  
Tina struggled as Ratigan let his hand trail down from her painted lips to her chest. "I know this excites you, my dear," he murmured. "NO!!" Tina broke free of the thug's grasp and slapped Ratigan. "Tina!" Auburn gasped. "Don't!"  
  
But the woman was beyond hearing her mate's plea. "Pervert!" she cried. "If you ever come near me again, I swear I'll...."  
  
Before she could finish her threat, Ratigan knocked her back onto the ground. "ENOUGH!" he snarled. "A lesson must be taught. Tie him up!" he pointed to Auburn. "And give me string for her."  
  
Auburn was tied and gagged. The two thugs held him on his feet. All three watched as Ratigan tied Tina's hands behind her back. Rage surged into Auburn's heart when Ratigan pulled a small bell from his pocket. "This is your last chance," he said. "You can have more than you've ever thought possible." Without warning, he leaned forward and kissed her lips passionately.  
  
The only answer she gave was to spit at his feet.  
  
"Very well! You're not worth all this trouble anyway, you seedy little whore!" Ratigan rang the bell.  
  
The next few seconds were hours to Auburn. Felicia appeared from the shadows. Tina stared defiantly into the cat's eyes. She didn't scream when the huge paws descended upon her, or when she was lifted above death's toothy jaws. No, it was not until she dared to look one last time at her tied lover that she opened her mouth and let out a muffled shriek as she fell. It was the last thing Auburn heard before falling, unconscious, to the ground.   



	2. The Friend

[Note: In the movie, Morey is the rather pudgy mouse in the doorway and Bill is (duh) the lizard.]  
  
Chapter 2 The Friend   
  
Auburn awoke with a start. His face was wet with tears and his breath came in ragged sobs. The dream had been particularly vivid that night. Argentina's terrified expression still clung so clearly in his mind he could have counted each silver fur on her ears and cheeks. It was several long minutes before he could force his tears back into the deep well of his unshared sorrow. He got up and wandered into the kitchen. Half-dazed, he filled a kettle of water then endeavored to light the stove. The first match broke, then the second.  
  
"Dammit," he growled. The majority of the matches suffered the same fate under his shaking hands before a loud, continuous knocking on the door caused him to drop the entire box. Muttering a string of language unfit for printing, Auburn shuffled to the door. He ended his vulgar monologue by throwing open the door with an exclamation of, "What the bloody hell IS it?!"  
  
A rather short, plump mouse with a cigar in his mouth stood on the doorstep, his eyes wide in surprise. His hand was poised for another knock. "Oh, it's you," Auburn muttered. "Sorry, Morey."  
  
Morey shook off his astonishment at Auburn's rather violent appearance. "Well, yeah, who did you expect? Having company over, Auburn? Maybe.... lady company?" He winked, chuckling softly.  
  
But Auburn sighed, oblivious to his friend's attempt at levity or perhaps simply unwilling to participate. Morey followed him inside. "Hey, you don't look too good, buddy," he said. "What's up?" "Nothin'," Auburn grumbled quietly as he knelt on the floor to pick up the matches. In a rare flash of perception, Morey realized that "nothin'" was not the right answer.  
  
"That wasn't a very convincing nothing, Auburn," he said, crossing his arms. "Sit down."  
  
Auburn looked up at his friend with dull eyes and proceeded to sit down on the floor. Morey sighed.  
  
"In the chair!" He pointed for emphasis. Auburn dragged himself obediently into the chair. He sat there slumped onto the table staring listlessly while Morey lit the stove and put the kettle of water on.  
  
While the water heated, Morey kept a critical eye on Auburn. Rarely had the cigar-puffing gangster seen his companion so downcast. He stood against the wall wondering about it until the kettle let out a high, clear note to announce that the water was boiling. Then, clumsily, he prepared a pot of tea and set it on the table to seep.  
  
Suddenly, a knock rang through the dimly lit apartment. Morey grudgingly went to the door and opened it.  
  
"HI, MOREY!" The perky, loud lizard Bill bounced inside. "Howya doin; bud? Where's Auburn? HEY AUBURN!" Bill balanced on the end of his tail and yelled. "WHERE AAAAARE YOU???"  
  
Morey grabbed Bill by the collar of his shirt and half-carried, half-dragged him to the door. "Shut **up** you maniacal reptile! We're comin'!" "But.... but.... but.... The meeting's in a half hour!"  
  
"I **know** when it is!" Morey blew a cloud of smoke into Bill's face. "Trust me, this is NOT the time for your antics! Beat it, Bill!"  
  
"Awright, awright, I'm goin'." The lizard dusted off his sleeves and turned to leave. As Morey was about to shut the door, he looked back. "Hey Morey!" he chimed.  
  
"What is it??" Morey groaned, exasperated.  
  
"Smile!!"  
  
"GET OUT OF HERE!!!"  
  
Bill beat a hasty retreat as Morey launched a nearby umbrella in his general direction.  
  
With Bill gone, Morey closed the door and went back into the kitchen. Auburn hadn't moved. If anything, he looked even more depressed than before. Morey frowned, worried. He poured two cups of tea, secretly slipping a few drops of rum into Auburn's cup. He shoved the hot brew into the gloomy mouse's hands and ordered him to drink it. Auburn sipped the tea submissively. He did not seem to taste it.  
  
"Actually," Morey said, "I came here to deliver a message.... Though it seems I've ended up playing mother, eh?" He grinned good-naturedly, but failed to draw even a shadow of a smile from Auburn. "Um.... Anyway," he continued, "The boss has a meeting called for a half hour, as you probably heard from that loud-mouthed lizard. Nobody's too sure what this meeting is about, but I gather it's pretty important. So whenever you're ready, we've gotta be off."  
  
Auburn nodded. "Okay, Morey. Okay. Let's go." He put down the cup of half-drunk tea and got up from the table. After grabbing his hat, he trudged out the door. Morey followed, snatching Auburn's dagger on the way out. Now he was worried. Auburn never forgot his weapon. Morey decided to delay questioning him about until they got to the meeting hall to see if a little walking would improve Auburn's mood.   



	3. The Meeting

  
Chapter 3 - The Meeting   
  
The walk to Ratigan's meeting hall did not improve Auburn's mood. In fact, his mood seemed to deteriorate. By the time they arrived (a few minutes late, too), Auburn was the very picture of despair. His head hung, his eyes were barely open, his arms were limp at his sides. Morey wondered why he was even still on his feet.   
  
When they entered the hall, the meeting had not yet started. The room was crowded and buzzing with low voices. Bill was there to greet them with his usual lively attitude.   
  
"Hey, Morey! Hey, Auburn!" he whispered cheerfully. "Morey, you forgot to smile."   
  
"This isn't the time, Bill." Morey nodded towards Auburn as a means of explanation.  
  
"Ooh, what's wrong wit' him? He looks a step away from the grave, or more!"  
  
More shrugged. "I haven't a clue! I found him like this when I went to remind him about the meeting. He's only gotten worse. I don't understand it, really I don't!"  
  
Bill grinned mischievously. "Maybe we should go fetch one o' them singin' girls from the Rat Trap."  
  
"I don't think so, Bill. I think..." Bill elbowed the cigar-smoking mouse to quiet him. Ratigan had arrived. As he ascended the steps to his throne, the noise in the room made way for hushed anticipation. Not even the shuffle of eager feet broke the silence.   
  
Ratigan sat on his throne. He took a puff of his cigarette, enjoying the feeling of having so many eyes on him. In his mind, they were all eyes of loyal servants. If he could hear the muddled thoughts behind those eyes, he might have thought differently.   
  
"My friends," he began at last, "Welcome. It isn't often I call you all together like this. I see you all out there expecting some grand scheme to take off." He chuckled. "Actually, this meeting is not about that. Not tonight. In truth, I have summoned you here for one very simple reason." The crowd visibly leaned forward. Almost every ear was perked to hear their leader's purpose for bringing them together that morning. Ratigan looked at them, his eyes scanning each face.  
  
"You are here," Ratigan continued, "So that I may have a chance to see you together. Yes, my friends, a census. You will each be counted on your way out. But first, because I troubled you to come here for such a petty thing, there is beer in the back. You may help yourselves." With that, Ratigan rose from his throne to the sound of cheering. He gave a little bow before retiring out the back door.   
  
Voices murmured throughout the hall of the boss's kindness, of his attentive nature. "He don't miss a thing," one mouse said. "Even thinks to count us!"   
  
"Oh yes, he's terribly clever that way."  
  
"Terribly!"  
  
"A magnificent leader..."  
  
"Couldn't ask for a better mouse..."  
  
The gang's positive reaction was noted by the two squirrels who stood on either side of the doorway with pencils and notebooks in their hands. As the mob gradually dispersed, one of the squirrels wrote down each gangster's name and address. If the now half-drunk criminals looked, they would have seen the squirrels writing strange symbols beside each name. The symbols, which were so varied they could have been a language of their own, went down to describe the apparent mood of all who passed. For that was the real reason the meeting was called. Ratigan cared nothing for numbers, even less for names. Shrewdly cunning as ever, he was taking a record of the moods of his workers. A happy thief, he knew, was a good worker. But an unhappy thief was trouble. Discontent among the masses often turned quickly to suspicion. From there it was only a half-step to betrayal. There could be no weak links in the chain.   



	4. The Weak Link

  
Chapter 4 - The Weak Link   
Professor Ratigan examined the squirrels' lists carefully. On the whole, their report was favorable. His gang was acting like a bunch of drunken sailors, which is exactly what he hoped for. The symbols he had invented then carefully taught a selected few of his high-ranking recruits to use were ideal. As he scanned the symbols, one stuck out. It was a symbol he had never seen on one of his census lists before. It was a symbol he remembered hesitating to teach them, since he never expected to see it. It was a symbol that meant something akin to total despair. Puzzled, Ratigan read the name beside it.   
  
Auburn Hensaw. 16 Ivy and Port.   
  
A devilish smirk spread over Ratigan's face. He remembered Auburn well. Normally the weak links were wiped out by simple means. But this time, Ratigan decided to have some fun. He had a good enough idea about what was bothering one of his most talented thieves. He pulled a rope hanging from the wall. A moment later, one of the squirrel note-takers appeared. "Yes, Professor?" he chirped, bowling slightly.  
  
"Come here, Patchai."  
  
The squirrel went to Ratigan and knelt by his feet. "Yes, Professor," he repeated.   
  
"Patchai, what do you do with an unhappy thief?"  
  
"I, sir?"  
  
Ratigan nodded. Patchai considered the question.   
  
"Don't try to guess what I would do. What would you do?" Ratigan asked impatiently.  
  
Patchai spoke hesitantly. "Why, I would make him happy again, sir." Ratigan grinned. "Precisely."  
  
***  
  
Ratigan dispatched the squirrel on a mission. The instructions were vague, but Patchai was clever and bright. Had he any skills of leadership and more ambition, he would have made a formidable foe for Basil of Baker Street.   
  
At Patchai's seemingly innocent advice, Morey and Bill left Auburn to alone to perk up by himself. Patchai hid himself in the shadows and prepared to follow Auburn.  
  
As the young spy predicted, Auburn headed for the Rat Trap Saloon. Once inside, Patchai skillfully followed Auburn's winding path through the crowd. The morning group was, as a rule, made up mostly of drunken sailors and fortune seekers. The group was a large one that morning. For that, Auburn was thankful. He would welcome the chance to blend into the assembly of seafarers and disappear.   
  
Patchai soon learned the object of Auburn's helter-skelter course: a low table set close to the piano. Watching from a safe distance, Patchai saw Auburn sit down with a mug of beer. For the next hour, Auburn did nothing but stare at a framed photograph on the wall and drink. Then he fell into a troubled sleep. Patchai crept closer to get a better look at the photograph. It was a grainy, creased image, made less clear by the smoke-stained glass. His eyes widened when he saw the beautiful maiden in the picture. Patchai did not know the lady's story, but he could guess why she possessed such a curious hold over the dozing thief.   
  
Only a few minutes passed before Auburn woke. His eyes were dim with tears of another memory, but these he held back. He looked around, momentarily forgetting where he was. But Patchai had gone without Auburn ever knowing of his presence. Nobody else appeared to take any notice of him at all. Auburn sighed softly. A flicker of something resembling determination flashed in his face. He stood and left the tavern.  
  
***  
  
As the day wore on, Ratigan's thugs melted away into the mysterious tunnels below the city. The shameful day was not theirs to dwell in. Classy dames and gentlemen strolled the streets in the sun. Their masks told twisted tales filled with enough shame to satisfy their gods' hunger. To London's thieves and drunks was left the holy night, when their shame became poetry and their deeds transformed into fairy-tale adventures.   
  
So until the night came once more, Auburn lost himself among the tunnels. There he wandered until he lost himself in grayscale visions without shape or meaning, then fell into a dreamless sleep curled in a pile of soft ash below the grating in a fine tobacco shop. The footsteps above drummed sleep into his weary bones, and the low human voices mingled with the heavy scent of cigars. Together they soothed his troubled heart.   
  
While the jester slept, the messenger did his work for the king. Patchai reported his findings excitedly to his master. Ratigan laughed heartily at his spy's report. Patchai flattened his ears, afraid he had done something wrong.  
  
"Have I not done well, Professor?" he asked.  
  
Ratigan smiled down at the young squirrel. "Patchai, you have done a perfect job. I couldn't have done it better myself."   
  
Patchai held his head a bit higher. Such praise, he knew, was difficult to attain from Ratigan. "I await further orders eagerly, sir," he said. "What would you have me do?"  
  
"I would have you sit and listen. Listen well, so that you may perform your next task without fault."  
  
Patchai sat at his master's feet. Ratigan told him his version Auburn's story.   



	5. Ratigan's Tale

  
Chapter 5 - Ratigan's Tale   
Eight years ago, a young woman was hired as a waitress and singer at the Rat Trap Saloon. Knowing I was in search of a female companion, my good friend Corbin, who plays the piano there, was good enough to alert me of the lady's more than pleasing appearance and manner. He told me as we sat at a game of chess one night that it might be interesting for me to go meet her. At the time, I took very little notice of my friend's remark. He hires so many beautiful women. And of course, his definition of a pleasing manner differs slightly from mine.   
  
However, after a few games and a few drinks, my curiosity grew. I questioned him further about this woman.   
  
"She is a precious gem among the girls," he told me earnestly. "She caries herself with the air of a duchess. I have never known her to allow a man to do so much as look at her rudely."  
  
"She has been brought up in the company of the Queen's ladies," I said dismissively, thinking the girl to be simply a runaway kitchen wench. But Corbin shook his head.  
  
"She's a half-breed. Her mother, I'd bet, was never an English mouse."  
  
"What do you mean?" said I.  
  
"Her fur is a shade of silver no Englishwoman ever boasted, not even with all those fancy powders they use nowadays. Her ears are turned up in a strange fashion ... rather more like a squirrel's ears than a mouse's. Her figure is long and slim, and her tail is like a lion's."  
  
"A lion's tail?" I laughed at him. "Corbin, my friend, you have had too much drink, or too much work, or both."  
  
But again he shook his head. "Never! I swear to you upon my own head, the tip of her tail is tufted as a blade of sea oats."  
  
Convinced of his sincerity, I resolved to go and see this woman perform. I learned that she was the last act on the next night's programme. So, as I promised, I went to the Saloon at the appointed time. I took my usual seat in the back of the room. When I arrived, a perfectly atrocious number was just ending. After the stage was cleared of rotten vegetables and unconscious performers, a strange hush came over the audience. Corbin and the band sent a dazzling chord of music over the murky, smoke-filled room, and the curtain swung open.  
  
There she stood. She was gorgeous. Corbin's poetic description had not done her a bit of justice. She was truly something from a dream. Her fur was like sparkling snow. The beauty and grace of her figure could not be hidden by the dusty crimson gown she wore. And her tail... Truly no lion could have walked as proudly after seeing her tail compared with his own.   
  
When she began to sing, all eyes were upon her. She could tame the wildest of sailors with her song. She was a true siren from far over the sea. And her name ... Have I not yet told you? Her name was as beautiful as her voice. Argentina. Had fortune been just to her, she would have been born a princess, I'm sure. But it was my good fortune to have her so close to me. After her song was finished, I went backstage to see her. However, she was not in the ladies' dressing rooms. I was directed to the back exit of the saloon. There I found her sitting with none other than Auburn Hensaw! The two were staring fondly into each other's eyes and speaking in hushed voices.   
  
I went out to greet them, and to congratulate the lady on her flawless performance. I was appalled that such a gentle, charming woman was to spend the rest of her life with such sewer scum as Auburn. Yet it seemed such was to be, for Auburn announced to me his upcoming wedding to Argentina! And yet, I still had one month to save her from such a fate. All that month I tried again and again to show her that my love was so much more worth having than his. But she rejected me. Imagine! She must have been so blinded by the lies Auburn was throwing at her. Finally, I decided to force her to choose between him and me. I waited, biding my time while I planned. During that time, she apparently gave birth to his daughter. I knew that they were not yet married. It was the last straw.  
  
One night, I invited both of them to my humble hideaway. They came, of course. Once I had them there, I asked if Argentina might not allow me to provide for her and her child until Auburn was able to do so himself. I confess that my offer was made out of some need to be near her, for she was more beautiful than ever.  
  
She seemed on the verge of accepting me, but Auburn grew angry. So he grabbed her arm savagely and pulled her towards his flat! She struggled to get away, but his grip was strong. What could I do but come to her aid? I tried talking to him, but to no avail. Finally, I had to use physical force to separate them. Auburn let her go, but then leaped at me, seething with jealousy. He managed after a time to take from me the bell that summons Felicia. He rang it, thinking my loyal pet would turn on me.   
  
But alas! She did not. She would have taken Auburn, but he was holding the bell. Instead, she decided the intended victim was Argentina!! It was a tragic ending for her, Patchai. She faced her death bravely. Never have I seen a woman so determined to be fearless.   
  
Auburn was horrified. He ran and hid in the tunnels for days. I decided not to punish him too severely, but to instead allow him to raise Argentina's child until she was old enough for me to adopt.   
  
But tragedy struck again. At the age of seven, when I decided the time was right for young Ginger to become my heir, Basil of Baker Street ruined my plans!! He kidnapped her. Now she is hidden somewhere outside of London, maybe outside of England. I have tried to locate her, but to no avail. It seems she is gone for good, just like her mother. And that, Patchai, I am sure is the source of Auburn's torture.   



	6. The Child

[Note: Alan belongs to Jenny Stead and is used in this story with permission. The song used here is "Frenchman for the Night" by Jimmy Buffett.]  
  
Chapter 6 - The Child   
  
Ratigan's performance was a good one. It was almost believable. Almost. Patchai was no ordinary street-rat. He could see the lies oozing from Ratigan's story as clearly as the slime that infested the sewer entrances.  
  
But Patchai was not about to let his boss see his disbelief. "What do you want me to do about it, boss?" he asked. His voice was shadowed with mocked sympathy.   
  
Ratigan sighed sadly. "For a year now my heart has bled for the loss of those two young ladies. I am sure my dear friend Auburn's heart feels a sharper pain, since the child was his."  
  
"Do you want me to... find another child?" It was a shot in the dark. But luck was with the squirrel. The shot hit a bull's-eye.   
  
"Exactly," Ratigan said, a note of pride in his voice. "Oh, you will make a fine second-in-command some day, Patchai."  
  
The squirrel bowed. "I am honored that you think so, sir. What are my instructions?"  
  
"Lure Auburn to the Rat Trap Saloon. There you will find a very young child. Two years old, I believe he is. Bring them together. My name must, as always, stay out of the dealings."  
  
With another bow, Patchai disappeared to carry out his master's bidding.  
  
**  
  
Auburn soon found himself being ushered into the Rat Trap Saloon with a very insistent Bill. The hyperactive lizard had shown up at Auburn's flat just as Auburn was drifting into sleep. Auburn had been up all night planning big plans, which for him consisted of trying to figure out how he could find a hypnotist to mess with his memories without attracting much attention from the boss. When he found no good solution to that problem, he turned to contemplating the most painless method of suicide. He was debating between freezing and poison when Bill appeared.  
  
Now he was again in the Saloon. Bill was chattering ceaselessly, as usual, but Auburn heard none of it. He was still a little more than half asleep. Bill led him to the table with Tina's picture over it, then left him there and went off chattering something about "really really good beer." Auburn blinked sleepily. On the stage, a young mousette in a midnight-blue cloak was singing to a soothing trumpet background. Auburn leaned against the table, resting his chin in his hands, and listened.  
  
From his driftwood castle  
Comes a song I've heard before.  
A scratchy gramophone cuts to the bone  
"La vie en rose" arpeggios.  
  
So the dream begins  
And the song is amplified.  
Buy the Beaujolais, on Bastille day  
He dances in the tide.  
  
Auburn's eyes began to close. Sleep was taking him over, and he was more than glad to submit. But again he was interrupted. This time it was not by Bill, but by a peculiar scent. A very strong peculiar scent. A scent like roses...and some other flower he couldn't quite name. He opened his eyes and looked around, but could find no probable source for the smell. Meanwhile, the girl continued her song.  
  
Well it takes him back  
To the days of love and war  
And the girl he knew with eyes of blue  
Waiting on the shore.   
  
Auburn felt something tug at his pants leg. He looked down to find a very young child peeking out from under the table, obviously oblivious of Auburn's presence. The child smelled strongly of roses. In the hand that was not clinging to Auburn's pants, the child held a honeysuckle flower that was almost as large as he was and an empty perfume bottle. Auburn smiled, remembering the time Ginger found a bottle of her mother's perfume with a similar result...  
  
If he'd only known  
How the years would fly on by  
Such a simple crime, he's run out of time  
So he reaches for the sky.  
  
But it was not for the sky that Auburn reached. Instead, he reached down and plucked the child from the floor. For a moment, the little one looked frightened. Auburn put him on the table.  
  
"Hello," Auburn said. "What are you doing here?"  
  
The young mouse stared at Auburn with wide eyes. "... I live here."  
  
"Here? In the bar??"  
  
The boy nodded.  
  
"Well what are you going to do with that flower?" Auburn asked. In response, the child thrust it towards Auburn, who was greatly confused by the entire matter.  
  
"You're giving it to me?" Auburn asked. The child nodded again. Auburn took the flower. "Um.... Thank you," he muttered.  
  
"My name's Alan," said the youngster. "I'm a flower." "Oh, is that it?" Auburn chuckled. "Well my name is Auburn. I'm a..." he paused thoughtfully.  
  
"Well, what are you?" Alan asked impatiently.  
  
"I... don't really know," Auburn answered truthfully. Alan stood up on the table and studied his new friend closely. After a moment's contemplation, he announced with authority, "You can be bumbly-bee."  
  
Auburn almost laughed. "What does a bumbly-bee do?" he asked. "Hold th' flower," Alan said. Auburn did. "Now buzz." Auburn raised an eyebrow. "Buzz, buzz," he said hesitantly. Alan shook his head.  
  
"Not like that! Like this! Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz, bzzzzzzzzz, bzzzzzzzzzzzz-zzzzzzzz!"   
  
"Oh! Of course." Auburn imitated his young companion. To be even more bumbly-bee-like, he sat cross-legged on the chair and tied his jacked around his neck to look like he had wings. Alan clapped.   
  
"Perfect! Now put yer nose in the flower like bumbly-bees do an' pertend to drink the nectar."  
  
Auburn did exactly as he was told. He put his nose into the flower and took a deep breath. That proved to be a mistake. With a great sneeze, he fell backward off the chair.  
  
The noise brought Matilda Rathouse, wife of the Saloon's owner, rushing to see what had happened. Auburn shook the stars from his eyes and looked up to see her pluck the child from the table, scolding him harshly. "Alan, what are you doing out here? Haven't I told you not to bother my customers? Haven't I?! Come on with you! Foolish child." She muttered an apology to Auburn as she brisked past with a whimpering Alan in her arms.   
  
Auburn dragged himself somewhat painfully to his feet. He glanced in the direction of the woman and child, then looked down at the honeysuckle flower. A smile touched his face, which was marked with the lines of lack of sleep and lingering sorrow. He sighed softly and left the Saloon. Patchai watched with an air of satisfaction. He had completed his task for Ratigan. Yet one more thing remained to be done. He followed Auburn out of the noisy place.  
  
Once they were far enough from the Saloon to avoid being heard, Patchai caught up with Auburn. "Hey!" he called. "Wait!"  
  
Auburn turned around, startled. "What is it?" he growled to the unfamiliar squirrel. Then, as his eyes adjusted to the light, he realized who he was speaking to. "Oh, Patchai. Sorry, I didn't recognize you. What's the boss want?"  
  
"I haven't come on one of the Professor's errands, Auburn," Patchai said quietly. Auburn raised his eyebrows, puzzled by both the information and by the squirrel's tone. There was a note of regret in his voice. "Then... what have you come for?" Auburn asked.  
  
"To warn you."  
  
Auburn tensed visibly. Warnings were not to be taken lightly, especially when given by someone higher in the ranks of the gang. Patchai continued. "Take good care of that child. His life is a gift. It because of you that the Professor spared it. "A life for a life,' he said to me." "What do you mean?" Auburn was becoming suspicious.  
  
"The Professor told me a story... It reeked of lies, and yet I'm sure there was truth in it. He told me of your little girl and a woman who worked in the Saloon."   
  
Auburn winced at the memory. Patchai continued, "Before I go on, you must tell me... Is it true that Argentina's death was accidental? And that Basil of Baker Street kidnapped the little girl?"  
  
"Never!" Tears stung Auburn's eyes, but he forced them back. "Ratigan killed my girl as much as the damn cat did. And Basil saved Ginger, not kidnapped."  
  
Patchai nodded. "I thought as much. Now, my warning. The Professor will be watching you, but he will be watching Alan more closely. You are being tested. If the child grows to be a loyal member of the gang, then you will be spared any further harm. But if the child is not..." The last words tailed into an ominous silence. Patchai shuddered. "I dare not think what will happen then."  
  
"What am I to do?" Auburn asked helplessly.  
  
"Raise a double agent," Patchai said simply. "That is the best I can say. And now I must go." It was only then that Auburn noticed the lumpy bag in the squirrel's paw.  
  
"Where are you going?"   
  
Patchai met Auburn's eyes. "Far away, my friend. Farther than you can imagine."  
  
"And you're not returning?"  
  
"No."  
  
Auburn looked at the floor. He had seen in Patchai's eyes that they had both suffered equally under Ratigan's cruel claws. And now that Patchai was leaving, Auburn felt as if he was loosing a glimmer of hope in the dark surrounding villainy of the lair.   
  
"Do not grieve for the loss of a fool, Auburn." Patchai smiled sadly. "Fools are not worth so many tears." When Auburn did not respond, Patchai put a hand on his shoulder. Auburn looked up and their eyes met for the last time. "You have a son, Auburn. He needs you to guide him away from this place. You did as much for the little girl. Do the same for Alan."   
  
Without another word, he turned and walked quickly into a tunnel. A minute later, even his footsteps were gone. More confused than he could remember ever being, Auburn turned and continued on his way home.  
  
**  
  
Back the his flat on Ivy and Port, Auburn went into Ginger's room. It was the first time he had dared to step into that sacred place since she had run away over a year ago. He stood there, not quite sure what had drawn him into the room in the first place. A fleeting scent of roses brought the echo of a lullaby to his ears. He began to hum the tune softly. As he did, his feet carried him to the side of Ginger's makeshift bed of straw and tobacco ash covered with a discarded rag. Auburn hesitated a moment, then put the honeysuckle flower down on the dusty, unused blanket. Quickly, he turned away, eager to leave the dead room. But at the door he stopped. A strange compulsion seized him.  
  
"Good night, Alan," he whispered.   
…end…  



End file.
